


In Which The Angel of the Eastern Gate Gets a Cold

by Kazewrites



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Caretaking, Coughing, Drabble, Fanfiction, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Sick Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sick Character, Sickfic, Sneezing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 17:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20764175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazewrites/pseuds/Kazewrites
Summary: When Crowley hasn't seen Aziraphale in a while he goes looking for him.





	In Which The Angel of the Eastern Gate Gets a Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I'm Kaze. This is my first story posted here. I'm currently head over heels in love with Good Omens.

Cowley hadn't seen Aziraphale in a while. Not uncommon as sometimes they went decades, centuries or longer. However, with the almost apocalypse finally over, they had definitely been seeing more of each other.

Crowley had phoned a few times, sadly Aziraphale didn't own an answering machine; it was a miracle he even owned a phone.

A few drives by the Bookshop didn't reveal anything odd. Although Crowley had noticed Aziraphale's makeshift closed sign hanging in the window every time he went by. 

After a week, the demon finally had enough. He craved his angel's soft warm body and the smell of his curly blonde hair.

Snapping his fingers, the doors to the shop opened, Crowley sauntered in. The dim lights illuminate the cluttered shops Every book was in its place, nothing out of sorts. Quiet, almost too quiet. One could hear the dust settling on Aziraphale's desk.

Crowley snaked his neck around the corner of a shelf but his friend was not in sight. Sighing, he was about to give up when he heard a terrible raspy sounding cough, the kind that bend you over at the waist, erupt from the backroom.

"Aziraphale?" Crowley called cautiously, that wretched sound couldn't have come from his soft angel.

"C-crowley?" A strained voice replied. Aziraphale appeared in front of the him. Dressed in beautiful cream satin pajamas with wings embroidered on the lapels, a tartan scarf wrapped around his neck and a matching handkerchief tucked hand which hovered near his red sniffing nose.

Crowley's glasses slide down his nose as his face reflected the shock still his normally proper friend a disheveled mess. "Angel?" His voice still not portraying the confidence that Aziraphale was truly standing before him.

Aziraphale's tired eyes finally blinked as if he needed a moment to recognize Crowley. "Oh...dear...I-I..."

"Are you alright?" Crowley asked stepping forward, Aziraphale's posture gave the impression he could falter any minute.

"Of course I...I..." Aziraphale turned sneezing into his waiting handkerchief. "I'm fine, perfectly...fine..." The last part came out as a tired sigh. Aziraphale's weary eyes averted to any place but his friend.

"Right and I'm the Queen of England." Crowley replied as he watched Aziraphale rub his nose. "Why didn't you tell me?"

A quick glance over but the angel kept his gaze down. "Oh I don't know." He said hoarsely while sniffling. "Didn't wish to bother you..." A dry cough escaped him, he leaned closer into Crowley who automatically had his arm around the poor angel. 

"Angel, you are never a bother." Crowley said taking Aziraphale by the arm. A few steps in Aziraphale paused as his breath hitched. Crowley felt a tighter grip on his arm as his friend dipped forward catching a hard sneeze into his handkerchief. 

"How long you been like this?" The demon asked as he helped Aziraphale to the plush sofa in the back. 

Letting out a tired sigh, Aziraphale laid his head back. "Oh...uh...few days perhaps? Maybe...well...maybe lon-n-n..." Snapping back up he sneezed exhaustively again. Crowley winced hearing how bad his friend sounded.

"Tea?" He asked, a bit surprised when the angel shook his head. "Why not?" 

"Well for starters, your tea is rubbish." Aziraphale cracked the first small smile in days. Crowley snorted. "Secondly..." His eyes darted to the side then he gently laid his head on Crowley's shoulder. "This feels like heaven."

Crowley smiled and began running his long fingers through those golden curls that looked a bit flat today.

Within moments the angel of the eastern gate was asleep next to his wily serpent


End file.
